


Snoozes and snores

by Sheneya



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cute, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:10:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheneya/pseuds/Sheneya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone finds Greg sleeping in his car after a hard case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snoozes and snores

**Author's Note:**

> For the sherlockbbc_fic prompt Groggy Greg: After a long, exhausting case, Lestrade falls asleep in his car because actually driving home in his state is dangerous and walking back up to his office is too much bother.
> 
> Whoever finds him thinks it's the most adorable thing ever, especially when he wakes up and tries to pretend he's 100% in control of the situation and totally did not camp out in his car.

It was a late night again, but hopefully the last for a while, Doctor Watson, even with his PTSD Nightmares, had finally gotten back into the soldiers habit of sleeping when ever he had the time, so he was comparatively well rested, unlike the Yarders.

Sally was face-first on her desk, Molly had crashed on the couch outside the morgue.

Anderson had been lucky enough to be picked up by his wife, though she seemed very sour about it, John couldn't be bothered wondering why, though from Sherlock's face, he probably knew as soon as he saw her.

Greg was nowhere to be seen, they'd developed an unusual friendship through Sherlock, Mycroft had once called it mutual bonding through adverse circumstances, for all that John and Greg liked the consulting detective, he definitely qualified as an adverse circumstance at times.

It wasn't until he ran into Sherlock's back that he realized the man he was thinking about had stopped, looking agitated.

"What is it."

"Lestrade's car is still here, it's running, but I can't see him."

It wasn't hard to see Sherlock's mind running through all possible scenarios, meanwhile, John worked his way over to the car slowly, looking inside before opening the door.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's okay Sherlock, he's fine, and the engine is off."

"But I could hear it."

"That's not the engine."

Sherlock swished over with his long coat, John often wondered how he got it to flare so dramatically with no wind, before he indicated inside the car.

Greg was laying flat across the front seats with his face pressed into the backs of them, the reason for the engine sound was quite clear.

He was snoring, the fact that his nose was pressed almost flat had enhanced the sound quite remarkably, as Sherlock seemed eager to point out.

Meanwhile, John moved to tap the detective's hip, not being able to reach much further up without risking falling on top of the man.

his light tapping didn't do much more than make Greg's legs kick out slightly, John was a sturdy man, so the light push as they twitched against his stomach didn't phase him more than him moving slightly to the side and nudging the sleeping man again, slightly harder this time.

There was more movement, and a proclamation best described as.

"Glxbth"

before bleary eyes peered up from sleep-tousled hair, he had the belt buckle imprinted on one side of his face, and a little sleep still in his eyes.

"I was awake."

At the knowing look from both men, he caved quickly though.

"I didn't mean to."

John looked at the man again, his eyes were half closed, and looked well on their way to shutting again, he looked like one of those sleepy foxes John watched on his computer before he'd found work.

"Come on, I'll drive you to our place, you can sleep on the couch."

Sherlock stared at the doctor as he lifted Greg up and buckled him into the passenger seat.

"What is it Sherlock?"

"You have a drivers license?"

John looked at the other man incredulously for a few seconds.

"I thought you knew, at least some of the Army medics had to have a drivers license in case they needed to drive the military ambulances, I was one of them."

As usual, Sherlock was moving the entire time John was talking, and by the time he'd finished explaining, Sherlock was already belted into the back seat, looking expectantly at him.

"I thought you didn't like riding in the back of police cars?"

"Lestrade's asleep." A quick glance confirmed this for John, the other man's face was pressed against the window and he snuffled gently before a much quieter snore than last time whuffed out.

"And you're driving, it's not even an official police car, it's Lestrade's personal one."

"Ah, I see."

With that, John got in behind the driver's seat and turned the key Greg had thoughtfully left in the starter before driving to 221B Baker Street.

It wasn't a long drive back home, but John knew it would be hard to get inside without waking Mrs Hudson, in his usual fashion, Sherlock had opted for the most inconvenient time to do something, apparently John's driving had a relaxing effect, because the consulting detective had crashed out in the back seat on the way home.

Unlike Greg, who John knew he could wake up at least enough to navigate the tired man up the steps, when Sherlock finally wound down after a case,you could stampede a herd of elephants past him and he wouldn't wake up.

Luck for once, seemed to be on John's side though, well, Mycroft at least, which, when John thought about it, probably had very little to do with luck and a whole lot to do with the CCTV camera's, which also explained why the man was standing outside their door waiting for them.

John figured he was probably getting tired again, small power naps did not a good night's sleep make, when the first image that popped into his mind was Mycroft dressed as Glinda the Good Witch.

As though he knew exactly what John was thinking, Mycroft's enigmatic eyebrow conveyed all the displeasure the man had, it must be rough being the man who's entire emotional range seemed concentrated around a single eyebrow.

"Even in his sleep, we know Sherlock will be.... displeased if I try to assist him, I'll move the DI."

Mycroft had underestimated the instincts of a sleep deprived detective when confronted by an unrecognized nose far too close to his face.

He punched it.

A quick. "It's Mycroft." From John settled him down before he lashed out again.

Mycroft still took the time to assess the damage, before hauling the man out of the car, John handed the government official the key, telling him to prop the door open, before going into the back of the car to unbuckle a sleeping Sherlock.

By the time John had gotten Sherlock to the open door, Mycroft had already dragged the DI to the couch, and was now trying to assist John with Sherlock, with out touching either of them, mainly by talking John through the navigation of new experiments Sherlock had started during the time John had been at work that day.

finally getting the lanky man into his own bed, John pulled the covers up around him and tucked him in, before rummaging around for some blankets to tuck Greg in with.

Finished, he said his goodbyes to Mycroft, who in a rare moment of tact around John, decided not to question him about the days work, before heading to his own room when a sudden dizzy spell had him leaning against the wall, sliding down it he realized he'd probably end up with a bad shoulder from sleeping on the floor in the morning.

Instead something warm and clad in expensively soft wool picked him up.

The last thought in his head was who would believe him if he'd said Mycroft Holmes had carried him to his room and tucked him into bed.


End file.
